Nothing Til Death Do Us Part
by The Mirror Above the Sink
Summary: Just a little crossover one-shot that I randomly wrote. Harry, visiting his parent's graves, finds a gravestone marked with 'Edward Elric, 1899-1913', and strangely feels drawn to it. So what else was there to do but sit and stare at it for half an hour? Well, making friends with the golden-eyed ghost was something he could do... (T because of certain words that Ed spouts often)


Harry was visiting his mother's and father's grave, as he did every so often. He stood up, brushing his fingers over the gravestones, and turned to leave. But something caught his eye - there was a single grave in a dark, lonely, tree-covered corner of the graveyard, covered in ivy and looking very old indeed. Something about the grave drew Harry towards it, and when he got within ten feet of it, for some reason the air became cold and damp. He shivered, suddenly wishing he had worn his coat instead of a thin grey jacket that was two sizes too small.

When he was close enough, it was obvious that nobody had cared for this grave for a long time. Grass had grown wild and tall over the dirt in front of the grave, and the stone itself was weathered down and covered in vines. For some reason, Harry felt inclined to pull some of the ivy off to see if he could catch a glimpse of the name. He thought it would be futile - the grave seemed to far gone - but a surprisingly legible name stood out against the dark grey stone.

 _'Edward Elric  
1899-1913  
Died a hero, brother, and friend'_

Harry sat before the grave, running his fingers over the tall grass that reached his nose when he was sitting. He stared at the grave for what felt like eternity.

 _"Oh, Truth, are you really just going to sit there and stare at my Goddamn grave like a creepy psychopath?"_

With a shout of alarm, Harry tried to jump away from the grave. 'Tried' being the key word here. Since he was still sitting, he ended up launching himself strangely across the grass using his legs as springs. The ethereal figure that had appeared on the grave chuckled.

 _"Haven't gotten a reaction like that for a good hundred years,"_ the figure mused. It was the shape of a young boy, with long hair tied into a braid. He was sitting on top of the gravestone, legs crossed. A long coat was placed over a plain tank top and pants with combat boots on his feet. Everything about him was transparent and white - except for his eyes.

His eyes were the color of molten gold, glowing with surpressed anger - the reason escaped Harry - and seeming to pierce right through Harry's skin and down to his core. Though the being looked distinctly amused as Harry stared, emerald eyes wide with confusion and shock.

"W-what are you?" Harry managed to say. The transparent being frowned.

 _"Did you say 'what'? Now that's just rude. I happen to have been human once, too. No matter. I'm Edward Elric, if you didn't get the hint from this lump of granite."_ He gestured to the grave under him. _"I've been dead for a hundred years, give or take. Somehow, though, my thoughts or spirit or whatever you want to call it stayed linked to this land as a ghost, spirit, poltergeist, ethereal being, phantom, shadow, specter... Whatever your pea brain thinks of me as."_

"B-but... How?" Harry muttered, still not fully understanding as he scooted a few feet closer. 'Edward' threw his see-through arms in the air.

 _"Hell if I know. All I know is that it's hilarious to scare the shit out of weird stalkers who like to stare at my grave creepily for half an hour."_ Harry blanched when he realized the not-so-direct jibe aimed at him.

"I just wanted to see what it said," he said sulkily. Edward snorted.

 _"So it takes you thirty minutes to read - what - ten words? You must be stupider than I first thought."_ He grinned cheekily at Harry, and the raven-haired boy spluttered indignantly.

"I'm not stupid!" he protested loudly. 'Edward' just kept smiling.

 _"I know. I know that since, first of all, you can see me. Second, you can actually hear me. Third, you aren't still freaking out about me being a ghost. Fourth, I can see that look in your eye."_ At this, his grin faded and a solemn expression took over his spectral features. _"You've seen death. You've lost people close to you. And you've looked death in the face... and laughed."_ Harry gawked at the... boy?

"How did you know?" he asked quietly. Edward smiled again, this time sadly.

 _"I already said. It's in your eyes. Just like me."_ Now that Harry actually _looked_ , the ghost's eyes weren't just filled with rage. A dormant sadness and wisdom was laying deep within those golden orbs, showing that he was far more real and wise than Harry could ever hope to be.

"Did you... lose someone, too?" Harry murmured. Edward nodded dismally.

 _"My mother, at first. Then my father. Then Nina. Hughes. Alphonse. Colonel Useless. Lieutenant Hawkeye. Havoc. Fuery. Breda. Falman. Gracia. Elysia. Teacher. Armstrong. Ling. Lan Fan. Old man Fu. Maria. Mei. Ross. Brosh."_ Harry could tell these names were important to the ghost. He said them with a kind of longing, and it made Harry want to meet them all just by the tone he spoke with.

"They sound like good people," he whispered. Edward smiled that depressing smile again.

 _"They were. I couldn't ask for a better family. But after I... well, died, than things just went haywire. They started dropping left and right, starting with my little brother. I couldn't do a thing, and they couldn't see me. I watched them all die one by one."_

"I'm sorry." Though Harry knew the mantra didn't mean anything, he felt that it would be more signifigant since this was coming from someone who had lost both their parents as a mere baby. "I lost my mother and father when I was only a year old. They were murdered in cold blood."

 _"Sorry for your loss. You know, it always gets me whenever they add new graves to this cemetary. I always end up looking at the new ones, seeing how old they were, and trying to figure out their life stories. I think I saw your parent's graves. You_ are _Harry Potter, right?"_

"How'd you figure that?" Harry asked, slightly defensive.

 _"Your mom and dad told me about you. Said that you were a bright kid, with the messiest hair that anyone had ever seen. Complained a lot about your scrawny appearance. You look like a twig."_

"W-wait, my mum and dad?" Harry stuttered, eyes wide. "You met my mum and dad?"

 _"I've met their ghosts,"_ Edward said simply. _"They stuck around for a few years after their graves were placed here, but they disappeared eventually after their remains rotted away into skeletons."_ Harry shivered, not wanting to know what his parents probably looked like now.

"But what about you?" he suddenly questioned. "You've been dead for a hundred years, and you haven't faded."

 _"There is a little something that I possibly did to make myself like this,"_ Edward said wryly. _"Being able to stay as a ghost for so many years isn't as fun as it seems. People won't stop dying around you, and you get to deal with the reminder of that fact every day when you look around you. The only company you get is other dead people or people who come to sob over their graves. It gets a little depressing after a while."_

"Oh... I didn't realize-"

 _"Nobody ever does. Calm down, you didn't offend me,"_ Edward chuckled. _"In fact, I'm just happy to have someone to talk to. All the other ghosts just complain about being dead, and you're the first live person besides my-"_ he choked on the next word, _"_ father _that could see me. So, well, I guess this is a first for both of us."_ He grinned. _"So, how's Moldyshorts doing? Last I heard of him, he disappeared without a trace after trying to kill you. Nobody really came to gossip in the graveyard after that."_

"Well, you see..." Harry told the ghost all about what was going on. Edward soaked up the information like a sponge, eyeing Harry intently and occasionally nodding his head and making strange comments like _'_ _knew that bastard would die'_ or _'makes sense, I guess'_.

"If you don't mind me asking..." Harry began hesitantly, detecting the way 'Edward's posture stiffened. Though he was still on top of his grave, he had shifted so that he was sitting normally, his legs dangling over the side. "How did you die?"

 _"Got my face half burned off and let a knife go through my heart. Oh, and you can't forget the giant hole punched in my stomach,"_ Edward said casually, kicking his legs like a child. Harry's eyes widened even further.

"How does that even happen?" he burst out. "People just don't go around getting holes punched in their stomach every day, you know!"

 _"Back then it was a daily occurence,"_ Edward said dryly. _"Anyways, how come you were staring at my grave? I'm pretty sure it wasn't just for shits and giggles."_

"Oh... that." Harry didn't really appreciate the abrupt change in subject, but he allowed it. After all, how often did you get to converse with a dead person? "I'm not really sure, actually. I just thought it was weird that your grave is so far away from the others." Edward snorted again.

 _"Of course I'm far away from the others. Didn't you sense how damn cold it gets when you're around me?"_ Harry nodded, his freezing ears reminding him of that fact.

"Why does it get so cold?" he asked, absently rubbing his hands together. Edward shrugged.

 _"Hell if I know. Well, I guess I better get going."_

"Eh?"

 _"I can't stay here forever. Pretty soon the sun'll shine here and make me disappear anyways."_ Harry looked up. The sun was indeed sinking lower in the sky, and its rays were starting to creep past the branches of the oak trees around Edward's grave. The etherial being gave another smile. _"Well, nice talking to you. Boy-Who-Lived."_

"Nice talking with you, too. Shorty."

 _"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE-!"_ The rant was cut off as a wind suddenly blew, shifting the branches of the trees and making sunlight shine directly on top of Edward's head. With a small cry, he disappeared in a small whoosh of wind. Harry still sat, stunned. He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye properly, much less ask him about his parents.

"Oh, well. I'll talk to him tomorrow when it's dark out."

And so began an unlikely friendship that took place in the dark, the cold, and the depressing. Two boys that had lost much became close friends, though one couldn't very well move and the other left for nine months a year for five years. But somehow, the friendship worked. With time, they told each other everything about their lives. Edward's story was obviously more depressing - he explained in vivid, gory detail the ways every single one of his friends died. Harry had nightmares for weeks.

Though eventually, Harry moved away from the neighborhood. Edward once again became lonely, with nobody around to talk to. The new dead weren't much fun - they cried over their deaths and pleaded to God to go to Heaven. Edward knew he wouldn't get that luxury - Truth had made sure of that. He was cursed to stay like this for eternity, never to fully disconnect from life and stay as a ghost that couldn't even touch the sun's rays. And so his lonely life started anew, this time much more depressing because of the lack of a certain black-haired boy that would never fail to make the ghost smile.

* * *

The day Harry came back again was not a sunny day. It was raining horribly, soaking everything to the bone within seconds. Harry - old, frail, and nearing the end of his life - trudged towards Edward's grave like he had done so many times before. He sat in front of the unkempt grave, legs crossed like he had always done. His weak legs were trembling.

"Hey, Ed," he whispered. No answer. "Well, I'm guessing you're surprised I came back. It's been a while, huh? Well, anyways, I just came to say goodbye. I don't have much time left, so I'm hoping that I'll get my grave next to yours. Who knows? Maybe we can be ghost buddies together. Ah, I guess what I also wanted to say was... well, sorry. I left you all alone again. I completely forgot about you. Nothing I say can justify that." He continued to talk - rambled, mostly - well through the storm. By the time he was finished speaking, voice hoarse and cracking, the rain had started to let up. He pulled himself to his feet, joints creaking and aching in protest. He patted Edward's grave in an affectionate, if not apologetic, gesture.

"Well, goodbye, old friend," he murmured, turning and leaving the graveyard.

 _"Goodbye, Boy-Who-Lived."_

* * *

 **Many years later, when one visited the graveyard to pay their respects to the ones who had passed on, they could sometimes hear the laughter of two young men echoing from the darkest, coldest, dampest corner. And, for some reason, it always warmed their hearts to such an extent that they would walk over simply to brush their fingers on the top of the gravestones in a show of respect.**

 _Friendships can last for eternity, as long as it was meant to be._

* * *

 _ **Oh my Life, where did this even come from?! I'M SUCH A DEPRESSING BITCH!**_

 _ **Ed: YOU KILLED ME!**_

 _ **Harry: AND ME!**_

 _ **Me: I'M SORRYYYYYYYY!**_

 _ **Ed: *Turns to Harry* Should we?**_

 _ **Harry: *Nods* We should.**_

 _ **Me: ...Eh? *Suddnely is killed* HEY NOW!**_

 _ **Ed: Hah! See how that feels!**_

 _ **Me: *Uses my awesome author powers and regenerates* Ain't nobody got time for dat. *Shoves the boys into the sunlight***_

 _ **Harry/Ed: *Hiss like vampires and disintegrate***_

 _ **Me: *Smug smile***_

* * *

 _ **OKAY! On a more... well, less insane note, I guess I kind of wrote this as a spinoff of the HP/FMA crossover I'm currently writing. I'm thinking of posting it soon, so tell me what you think! And I hope this wasn't as bad as I think it is!**_


End file.
